City of the Bitter Son
by NeuroticMuse413
Summary: Clary intercepts a series of notes addressed to Jace, foretelling one event after another. When a final note foretells his death, Clary sets out into the darkest corners of New York City to find the source of the predictions and save his life. Post-COG.


**CITY OF THE BITTER SON**  
By NeuroticMuse413

…

**SUMMARY:** Clary intercepts a series of notes addressed to Jace, each foretelling one event after another. When a final note foretells Jace's death, Clary sets out into the darkest corners of New York City to find the source of the predictions and save his life. Meanwhile, Jace believes she's cheating on him and takes it out on every Downworlder he sees, making her believe the prophecy could come true at any moment. Their separate adventures lead them down the same road, to the last person they'd ever expect to see again.

**NOTES:** Post-COG. "Mature Audiences" for language, violence, and sex. Might continue it. Might not. Let me know if you like it.

…

**CHAPTER ONE:** _The Bitter Son of Herondale_

"I didn't break her," defended Jace as he stepped into the elevator at 4560 North Bricksview Lane. A Mundane couple was making out in the corner, pressed up against the glass and steel. They were startled to hear the elevator doors open on the fifth floor, only to find no one visibly there.

"She didn't want to come kill a Forsaken with us," whispered Alec as though it were a taboo topic. He huddled close to Isabelle to avoid the couple's corner but it was a small elevator. "There has to be something wrong with her."

Isabelle snorted. "She might be part angel, Alec, but she's lived her whole life as a Mundane. Give her a break. It's not her fault she doesn't get turned on at the thought of dismembering a Downworlder. She's not Jace."

Alec shook his head and crossed his arms. "I think she's cheating on him. It's the obvious explanation."

Jace punched him in the arm, though he obviously didn't take Alec very seriously because he didn't raise his voice. "I'm right _here_," he groaned. "Don't talk about her like that. In fact, don't talk about her _at all_. She's not a walking issue of Penthouse Forum, unlike Magnus."

Alec went pale and sunk closer into the metal wall of the elevator. He avoided Jace's eyes and quickly tried to change the subject, but was interrupted by the ding of the elevator door. They'd reached the first floor. The couple beside them pulled any wrinkles from their clothing, flattened their wild, passionate hair, and walked out the doors first, straight as pins and horny as goat weed.

Isabelle wove her arm through Jace's and dragged him out, alleviating the death glare he'd fixed on Alec. She sighed dramatically and said, "Give it a rest, guys. I'm starving and I smell like a cemetery. Can we just go home?"

Nobody complained, but the thought of infidelity lingered over Jace's head. He knew that every second they were apart was a chance for her to figure out he could never be the boy she deserved.

…

The library was the only place Clary had left to herself in the whole world. It wasn't just a calm, quiet sanctuary within the war of wills she knew as The Institute, or the resting place of a century's worth of magic. In two months, it would be the place where the Soon-To-Be-Great Clary Fray learned how to surpass the Even More Arrogant Jace Wayland as a Shadowhunter.

Rather than let the guys tie her up to the roof one more time or use her as target practice, she barricaded herself in Hodge's study any little second she had free. There, she read every damn thing she could find on how to take her blossoming abilities to the next level, which only really led to headaches, loud crashes, and invisible house cats. She ended up setting the desk on fire and Maryse subsequently forbid her from closing the door.

She suspected Jace had something to do with her punishments. He pretended to pass by nonchalantly, pretended not to be hurt by her insistence on privacy… but Clary saw right through him. He walked past the entrance for the third time that day, whistling the _1812 Overture_ at full volume to draw her attention. Clary heard him coming down the hall and hid behind the door, watching him through the crease between hinges.

She couldn't help the smile. In just a few months, he'd grown an inch in width and height and his pants had inevitably grown tighter, much to Magnus' dismay but all the better for Alec and herself. She watched him slow down as he passed by the open entrance and took her chance to check him out from behind, something she'd never thought of doing a mere two months ago. Their time at the Institute had made them closer, and Clary was starting to lose the awe she once held at Jace's beauty and wit. Now, she was beginning to understand that he was hers for all intents and purposes and she had every right to bask in his choice of leather battle pants.

He poked his head into the library but couldn't see her. His shoulders dropped from disappointment and walked inside, obviously going to snoop on her "research." According to Isabelle, Clary was the only one who could sneak up on Jace. If he weren't such a jerk, she'd think he was letting her do so on purpose.

She thought about scaring him as a prank but he'd picked up her sketchbook and walked it over to the window for a better look. She studied his face as he studied the book. She couldn't see his eyes well but his smirk showed his pride. The gentle caress of his hands over the papers as he flipped the pages showed her his love. Sometimes, it was easy to forget.

She shut the door with no intention of hiding from him. She stepped out towards him and, as she got closer, mirrored his smile. He pretended he wasn't surprised to see her.

"Hello, stranger," she whispered, going to stand beside him at the window.

He didn't answer, just smiled at her and continued to look at her work. He'd seen most it a long time ago. The last pages were reserved for Runes. Some she made up; some she learned from books. It didn't matter. They seemed to make Jace nervous enough to put down the book and avoid her eyes at all cost.

"What's wrong? You look like I just told you Santa isn't real," she joked, trying to rouse him. Again, he didn't answer, just looked at her the way he did when he thought she was sleeping. She felt like there was something wrong just beneath the surface. It was a sixth sense, developed after long winter days spent sitting quietly beside him under the tree behind Luke and Jocelyn's new place.

"Who says he isn't?" he finally answered, his voice soft. She didn't understand why it felt so awkward. He seemed _too_ quiet in recent days. If she didn't hear a smartass remark from him in the next thirty minutes, she seriously considered letting Magnus give him a full exam.

"The laws of physics, that's who. It's impossible to travel the entire world in a single night, let alone on a flying sled."

He gave a sharp laugh and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her crotch to his. "Oh yee of little faith. We travel New York on flying motorcycles and went from here to Idris in no time at all."

"That's different. That's motorcycles running on demon energies, not dreams of a white Christmas. And Idris is not the world. It's still one location, and it feels like dying every time we go over there. I'm _so_ waiting for the stupid summits to begin so we can have the Institute all to ourselves."

He paused and continued to stare at her as though debating whether or not to bring it up. He closed his eyes, let go of the grip on her waist, and summoned up the courage to spout, "Clary, why didn't you go get that Forsaken with us today?"

She laughed. That was hardly deserving of so much drawn-out suspense. She just wanted to stay in and read but, instead, she said, "I had a headache, but I'm fine now. Besides, you guys always use me as bait."

He seemed to sigh with relief but Clary could see it was still there, whatever worry had made him cross into her sanctuary. His eyes snapped to her, seemingly alive again, but she could still see he was pretending. She was the only one who could read the subtle twitches, especially now that Maryse had cut his hair a bit too short and his face was wide open for interpretation.

When he didn't speak again, just scanned her face, she continued, "Are we okay, Jace?"

"Fit as a—No. You know what? I want to get you away from the Institute for a bit."

She shrugged. "Well, we have kind of stayed in a lot since we got back."

"That's bad, isn't it?" he answered. He paused, looking around the room a bit frantically. Clary realized that she was probably the first real girlfriend he'd ever had. And, despite his fondness for flirting, he probably had no idea how to keep his girl happy. "No wonder you're holed up in here. I've been completely neglecting you!"

She tried to correct him, tell him it wasn't true, but the words never managed to make it out. He took her hand and pulled her across the Institute to his room. He sat her down on the bed and gestured for her to stay.

"I'm not a dog, Jace. You can just ask me to wait a second until your stupid little epiphany passes."

He smirked and pulled off his shirt in a single, swift motion, smiling confidently down at her. Her eyes grew huge and she leaned back onto her palms on the bed. Inwardly, she drooled, but she still only managed to yell out, "Oh God! Jace! Put that back on. I am not going to sleep with you just because you think you haven't been paying me enough attention!"

He burst out laughing and threw the shirt at her face. She growled, feigning anger, not lust. "I don't want sex, Clary! Well—Okay, I want sex. I'm seventeen. It's kind of in the job description, but not now! I'm getting changed. I'm going to take you out."

She exaggerated a sigh of relief. "And you just want me to watch you strut around like I'm a groupie? Look at me. I'm in jeans and a T-shirt that stopped looking like a T four months years ago. I need to change a whole lot more than you."

He started taking his pants off. She threw her hands up in surrender and ran out the room.

"I'm going to borrow something from Iz!" she shouted back, slamming the door. A few moments later, she heard the door lock behind her and the shower turn on. She rubbed at her eyes with her hand, still contemplating joining him. If only she had the courage. For too short a time to matter, she wondered whether he was right and she was just pushing him away, if only to avoid intimacy.

She started for Izzy's room but a piece of paper caught her eye in the distance. It was white and drew her in the way Jace and the others had drawn her into that room in Pandemonium when they first met. It was as though the paper radiated fate and, despite being addressed to The Bitter Son of Herondale, she opened it.

It was handwritten in blue ink calligraphy. When she bent the paper to the light, the letters seemed to glow gold then return to normal. She took in a deep breath and wondered whether reading it was wise or not. It was true that Jace had read her letters before, understanding little of privacy. But, she was supposed to be above that.

He had started to sing in the shower so she looked back at the closed door. She could practically feel the sound waves in her knees. She looked down the hall for someone to come along, someone to ask permission or run it by them. Someone to take the paper away before she gave in to its silent pleading.

She flipped it open quickly to avoid prolonging the doubt and guilt. If she didn't think about it, it wasn't an invasion. It was probably an invitation to a birthday party or a Thank You note from some Mundane who was poor enough to cross path with a demon _and_ Jace in the same day.

She took in yet another deep breath and, despite her conscience, read the note.

_Beware the drinkers of West End, as Prudence walks the streets.  
Your brother in sword will spill the blood of two hearts._

She scoffed and flipped it closed again. What the hell did it even mean? Once she read it, the mystery died as quickly as it came, so she closed it and slipped it into her back pocket without a second thought. When she saw Jace again, she would give it to him as though she'd never read it.

Izzy came down the hall in the distance, heading to her room with her stele in hand and a large splatter of green goo across her chest. Her shirt had been ripped. Clary ran to catch up with her before she locked herself in her room again.

"Iz!" she shouted. "Wait up! I need your help."

She rolled her eyes and opened her door. "Come on in," she mumbled.

"Ruined another shirt?"

"Yup. It's what I get for hunting in designer," said Izzy with a heavy sigh. Clary held back her laughter and just nodded sympathetically, going to sit on the bed as though she had some sister-in-law claim to it. Izzy paused in front of her mirror and asked, "Have you heard from Simon lately?"

It caught Clary's attention, no matter how casually it was delivered. There was a vulnerability to Izzy's voice that she hadn't heard since Max's funeral. She stopped twirling around Izzy's stele and answered, "Uh, yea. He called two nights ago. He's doing great."

This was a lie. Simon had called that morning and, with a similar tone, had asked about Izzy. He had also asked about Alec and Magnus, the Lightwoods, and Clary's relationship with Jace. He had asked her not to mention anything, which struck her as strange because she didn't see anything wrong with asking about his friends. She then realized that he just didn't want _Izzy_ to know he cared.

"Did he mention when he was coming down? Uhm, I want him to pick something up for me from Alicante."

Clary smiled at Izzy's reflection in the mirror. "No, he didn't mention anything."

"Oh well," she answered dismissively. "I'll get it myself when we go into the city with Mom and Dad."

"Are you going too? Is Alec?"

Izzy shook her head and wiped the goo off with a towel. She pulled off her shirt as if she were alone and threw it, and the towel, into her hamper. Clary grimaced. That'd be smelling something awful soon if she didn't wash it.

From her bathroom, she yelled out, "Alec is staying behind but he's probably spending the week with Magnus doin' the nasty!"

"Oh God," groaned Clary, hiding her face in her hands. "I so didn't need to know that."

Izzy started to cackle in the distance. "Virgins are such prudes. You know you're the only one left, right? Alec and Magnus are running off every night. I had Simon screaming my name just a few months ago. Even Jace—" Her petty rant came to a sudden stop.

Clary was not foolish enough to think Jace had been a virgin but they had never talked about his history. Jace had tried once or twice but he said he didn't want to make their relationship entirely about that. He had to know he had been Clary's first kiss and put the rest of her sexual history together from there.

Izzy poked her head out and said, cautiously as though talking to a child, "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Clary nodded, looking at her through her fingers. "I just came in to borrow some clothes. Jace is taking me out."

Izzy pointed towards the closet in the corner. "It's all yours. Bring it back in one piece."

"Apparently, there's no risk of it getting ripped off me, right?"

"Again, sorry… I was in your shoes a year ago, if it makes you feel better. I also never found someone who looks at me the way Jace looks at _you_."

It really didn't make Clary feel any better but she thanked her and, after insisting she took one very long shower, raided Izzy's closet for the first slinky black thing that didn't spurt out metal spikes.

She got out of there as quickly as she could, forgetting the day's awkward conversations and her pants on the closet floor.

…

Jace looked at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His arm muscles were getting larger. He was going to miss his lean frame as he grew up. At least he knew he wouldn't lose his hair and he still had time for another growth spurt so he might reach six feet.

As he looked to his clothes spread out on his bed, he wondered what Clary liked. Did she want him to wear Kingdom Hearts T-shirts and baggy pants with too many pockets, like Simon, or his leather pants and shirts with cut-off sleeves so he could show off his Rune scars? Or, he could wear the long black coats and the long-sleeve white shirt with tie—the clothes of the man he wanted to be for her.

He raked his fingers through his wet, flaxen hair, and tried to clear his mind. He didn't even know where he was going to take her. Just then, Alec knocked timidly on his door and entered, still covered in green dried-up goo.

"Why haven't you taken a shower?" asked Jace, moving away and covering his nose.

"I've been talking to Mom. We're getting reports from the new complaints system from Downworlders—" he began, his worker bee face showing through.

Jace interrupted, his eyes running over the clothes for the fifth time, "Damn system. This treaty thing with the Clave is driving me crazy. Not only do we have to protect Mundanes who are too stupid to realize the world's trying to kill them, but now we have to protect Downworlders who are too wimpy to use the giant claws God gave them."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up. I happen to be _dating_ the wimpy Downworlder who reported this one, asshole."

"Sorry," whispered Jace, still looking at his clothes absentmindedly.

"There's a vampire riot going on tonight, man!" he shouted, grabbing Jace's shoulders. Jace noticed the fear then. It made him forget every worry running through his head. "Some 100-year-old bitch named Prudence is coming back to town with fifty of her cronies, and our usual bloodsuckers are ready to kick her ass. Magnus says she's hardcore. She's the type to kill every Mundane from here to Albany if it means getting what she came here for!"

Jace pushed him off and replied, "Fine! I'll get my clothes on, dammit."

"What's wrong with you? You've got better plans than stopping a vampire civil war down the streets of Manhattan?"

Jace shook his head and, as he walked to pick up his dirty gear off the floor of his bathroom, he mumbled to himself, "No plans. Nothing at all."

…

**Reviews make Jace get naked. Story alerts make me describe it in detail. **


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